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by RunawayBean



Category: Original Work
Genre: Hacker, Hacking, Vigilante, original character backstory thing, pls i beg, pls read, villain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 20:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunawayBean/pseuds/RunawayBean
Summary: Different snapshots from different points in time in my OC's life.





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**Author's Note:**

> uwu just a tidbit about an original character of mine. Kind of set in the bnha universe but can be read as a stand alone.
> 
> A snapshot of Yukie's life before she truly became the dangerous hacker she is known as today.
> 
> The ventilation systems in buildings can be surprisingly useful in various situations...

Yukie is in a vent.

Huzzah.

She knows exactly how she got here too: she took a deal from a famed scientist and now she is scouring the globe at the tender age of eighteen to find information about this one specific thing. Something about the nervous system and quirks and some other bullshit that she hadn’t bothered paying enough attention to.

Her hair is back in a ponytail, leaving her brilliant silver eyes out in the open (save for some messy, choppy bangs that are a little too long). It’s dark blue right now, a bit of a mess, and her roots are starting to grow in which pisses her off. The specific brand of hair dye she uses is back in Japan and she doesn’t want to use any other brands because she trusts this brand, damnit. And, of course, she hasn’t settled on what colour she wants as her trademark. She’s tried black but that just makes her look more like a corpse than usual. Blonde is a no-no. Brown is a huge nope.

Maybe purple? Yeah, she’ll try purple next.

She shakes her head a little and focuses on the task at hand. The target is down below: a computer with three types of password locks on it, from what she can tell as she watches the person unlock it. A nine digit number code, an eye scanner, and a traditional word password. 

Fuck. 

This is going to be harder than she thought.

But, for now, she waits in the vent. Silent. Deadly. A snake, coiled and ready to pounce and sink it’s fangs into its victim and release it’s deadly venom. Waiting for the perfect moment.

The perfect moment to strike.

———

The moment came a half hour later and, five minutes after she struck, she was passed the security measures already. The eye scanner was garbage, she figured out the nine digit number code based on the sounds the keypad gave off, and the password was simple enough to figure out. Especially when you had the owner’s entire past and entire life in your back pocket.

She pushes the thick framed square glasses further up her nose and narrows her eyes at the screen. 

As she works, a small smirk starts appearing on her face. The security cameras are offline, she’d done that earlier, and now she is peacefully sitting here and creating copies of every document she can find. Her client can sort through them later if he needs to. Besides, he hadn’t told her to do it, he just said he wanted the information. Couple that with her usual laidback attitude and here we are. Her fingers fly across the keyboard as she continues to work, copying everything onto a USB stick plugged into the computer. One ear is trained on the hallway so she can figure out how much time hse has before she needs to be up in the vent again.

Footsteps. 

That’s her cue.

She unplugs her USB(after safely ejecting it because what is she? An animal? No way), leaps backwards out of the chair, logs out, climbs back up into the vent and closes it right as the door opens. The slam of the door against the wall masks the click of the vent lock shutting. 

She starts wiggling away through the vent, still silent. As she goes, she stashes the USB into a special pocket she had engineered into her shoe. It’s undetectable now. She keeps wiggling along.

It would seem that the mission was successful.

A small buzz at her wrist tells her the security cameras are all back online. She keeps wiggling, working towards where she climbed into the vents.

She finally gets where she is going and peeks between the slats.

People.

Great.

She waits.

As soon as the women’s washroom is empty for a split second, she opens the vent and drops to the floor in the wheelchair accessible stall. She flips the vent closed and steps out of the stall, nothing amiss.

She takes a minute to look at herself in the mirror.

Dark blue hair pulled into a ponytail, save for the chunky, too long bangs. Bright silver eyes. Death pale skin. Dark, under eye circles. Black t shirt, too big navy bomber jacket, black shorts, black thigh highs, shoes. Oh, and her glasses. She fiddles with her hair for a moment before heading out again.

She walks casually through the visitor’s section and heads out the door.

Mission: complete.

**Author's Note:**

> uwu thanks for reading my pile of garbage about my oc.


End file.
